


a silence of three parts

by starscry (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Magic, Familiars, Hannibal is still a cannibal, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starscry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will cleared his throat, extending a gloved hand. “Will Graham. I come bearing the word of the King. I’m just here for a routine inspection of your fiefdom; nothing more.”</p><p>“Hannibal Lecter,” the other man replied. Will felt as if he were being circled by a predator, though Hannibal made no move to do anything other than stand in place. “Tell me, Will. Does the King always send magickers to do his ‘routine inspections’?”</p><p>[ Will is a form of necromancer, a man capable of magic sent from the realm's capital to quietly dispose of an apparent serial murderer that has been plaguing a remote fiefdom in the kingdom. Hannibal is the resident ruling lord. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm excited to finally write my first hannibal fic, despite having been in love with the show since it first premiered! i've honestly been playing too much fire emblem: awakening lately, which inspired me to do a sort of original fantasy au. anyway, please feel free to hit me up with concrit here or talk to me about hannibal over on [tumblr](http://kenway.tumblr.com/), and enjoy the fic!

He tugged his cowl down over his face, pulling it from the front to shadow his eyes. The muffled warmth and sweat dripping down the back of his neck and matting his hair inside the hood was somewhat preferable to the sun’s unforgiving rays that had beat down on him since dawn when he’d left the capital and begun his journey. Will tipped his head back just a bit, letting out a muggy breath, blinking a stray bit of sweat from his eyes. 

The sounds of summer engulfed him; the obnoxious chirping of cicadas, the buzz of bees as they hopped from flower to flower. The mountains were a sight this time of year, Will found himself thinking. Flowers in bloom, trees thick with green leaves. Even the backwoods trail his horse trotted down was covered with tall crabgrasses. It was incredibly different from the sprawling urban madness that was the capital - packed to overflowing with peasants, merchants, and nobility alike. 

Will grabbed his horse’s reins with one hand, using the other to unroll a crude map Jack had drawn for him.

_”My men have reported that a fiefdom to the west has been experiencing an unusual amount of murders,” the King’s spymaster said, leaning upon his desk with firm elbows, fingers steepled. “Apparently, several nobles and peasants have been picked off with no visible motive. Left for dead in gruesome ways.”_

_Will stood, stoic, before Jack, arms crossed over his chest. “And what do you expect me to do about it?” he asked._

_“Figure out who is doing this and make them stop before this catches the King’s notice,” Jack replied bluntly. “I’ve informed the fief’s lord that the King will be sending a representative out to do a bit of routine inspection of the land. Be sure to keep the façade up.”_

_The older man shuffled a piece of parchment on his desk, heating a bit of wax over a candle and pouring it onto the paper. He pressed the royal seal into it before it cooled completely, rolling the parchment and handing both it and a map to Will with an air of finality._

_“Dispose of the murderer as fast as you can. You leave at dawn.”  
_

Will pursed his lips as he looked at the map, eyes narrowed at the blobby land masses and trails Jack had drawn and marked. 

“Almost there, Winston,” he murmured, looking down with a slight upward curve of his lips as his familiar kept pace with the horse, occasionally nipping at Will’s down-pressed heels in his stirrups. The dog barked in response. 

They turned down a thickly wooded path, Will guiding his horse toward the main road that was denoted on the map. The trees arched beautifully over the old, cobblestone path, only a few spots of sunlight dappling the ground. Glad to be out of the beating sun, Will pulled down his hood and did up the top few buttons on his shirt, carding his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make himself look somewhat like an ambassador of the King. 

He slowed his horse to a walk as the fiefdom’s central keep came into view. The stone the building was hewn from gave it a dark appearance, spires and buttresses climbing far into the sky. It sat upon a large hill, several mansions that likely belonged to the nobility of the area surrounding it; surrounding those were the houses and shacks of the fief’s merchants and peasants. Squinting his eyes, Will could see that the keep’s main gate had been opened. He grimaced - the lord must have somehow gotten wind of his arrival, despite the fact that Will had wanted to keep it as hushed as possible.

Thumb and last finger pressed to the corners of his mouth, he let out a shrill whistle. Winston’s form flickered a bit before finally fading. A necessary precaution, in case a passing nobleman happened to be magically attuned enough to notice that Will traveled with a spirit of the dead, despite the fact that Winston appeared to most a normal dog. This way, he knew that if someone happened to notice anything out of the ordinary, it would be the dog’s shadow that stepped in time with his own shadow, and they would think it just some trick of the light.

He walked his horse through the town, surveying it with a critical eye. The place seemed normal enough - not the setting for murders as gruesome as Jack had described. He supposed he would glean a few bits of information from the lord that kept the lands before settling in at a tavern for the night and listening in on the local gossip there.

The guards nodded at him as he approached the keep, and Will dug through his pack to find the roll of parchment Jack had given him.

“I come from the capital, bearing the sigil of the King,” Will said, clearing his throat. “Please take me to the lord that keeps this fief.”

“Right away, milord,” one of the gate guards said. “Please, allow our stablemaster to care for your horse. You may follow me.”

Will nodded and did as told, a bit reluctant to part with his horse, though his backside was decidedly not after spending the greater part of the day in the saddle.

He was led through great wooden doors and into a gaping entryway. The keep seemed even bigger from the inside, a large flight of stairs near the back surrounded by ornate railings and leading up to a second story. The place seemed to have a sort of stag motif, the animal carved from obsidian, rearing off the sides of columns that lined the room and hanging ominously over everything like a sort of gargoyle. Tapestries hung from two balconies just beside the staircase on the second floor, emblazoned with a coat of arms that bore a similar-looking stag, red, black, and gold knit together to form an interesting, unique pattern. A vast rose window seemed the centerpiece of the entire room, light shining through it and patterning the floor with colored rays from the stained glass.

“If you will wait here for a moment, sir, I will fetch the lord for you,” the guard said, armor clinking as he hurried off to find the man in question.

Will perked up as the man returned a few moments later, an obvious nobleman in tow. High cheekbones shadowed his face, giving him an ominous appearance. He didn’t seem to dress in the rich finery that a lord of the capital would; rather, his fashion was simple, if functional, but still rich in design, color, and material. A simple cloak hung around his shoulders, clasped in the front by a pair of small, silver antlers. 

He locked eyes with the man, immediately feeling the pierce of his gaze and the power emanating from him. _Magicker,_ Will thought, teeth grit. He attempted to dampen his own power, hoping the lord wouldn’t notice. 

“Leave us, please,” the man said, and the guard nodded curtly, exiting the keep. Will found himself alone in the room, scuffing the floor with a boot nervously.

“The King sends his watchdog to my slice of the realm?” he asked, tone laced with a teasing sort of curiosity. “And here I thought I had been following the rules.”

Will cleared his throat, extending a gloved hand. “Will Graham. I come bearing the word of the King. I’m just here for a routine inspection of your fiefdom; nothing more.”

“Hannibal Lecter,” the other man replied. Will felt as if he were being circled by a predator, though Hannibal made no move to do anything other than stand in place. “Tell me, Will. Does the King always send magickers to do his ‘routine inspections’?”

Will grimaced, wondering how Hannibal had put two and two together so quickly. “Not always,” he admitted, words slow. “He just felt that I have a.. good eye, I suppose, for detail. Wouldn’t miss something out of place.”

“Out of place, indeed,” Hannibal murmured in reply, eyes flickering down to Will’s shadow. “Your familiar is safe, here. I don’t have any ill intentions toward you or your magic. Use it freely in this fiefdom.”

Will felt a bit uneasy, but let out his same shrill whistle, Winston materializing beside him. 

Hannibal eyed him up and down. Will felt as if he were being sized up like a piece of meat, and he met the man’s gaze, lips pursed.

“I’ve heard several rumors about you, Will Graham,” the older man said. “Of course, not much word from the capital makes its way out here, but you’ve quite some legacy. A necromancer, is it?”

“I’m not here to discuss my magical inclinations, I’m afraid. I am simply here to deliver the King’s letter to you, and I will stay at a tavern and inspect at my leisure afterward, Lord Lecter.”

Will’s words were sharp, to the point, but they only served to make Hannibal’s mouth curve into a grin. “Ah, of course,” he replied, bowing at the waist. “My apologies for being a delay. I would request, though, that you at least join me for dinner tonight? I cook all of my own food, and it’s not often I get to cook for a King’s man. I would be honored if you would accept.”

He knew he wasn’t in any position to refuse this man. Drawing more attention to himself would only serve to get in the way of his true reason for being in the man’s fief, and gaining the ruling lord’s ire was not something Will wanted.

“Of course,” he grit out, words cold.

“Lovely,” Hannibal replied. “Allow me to fetch an attendant to take your things and show you to a guestchamber while you wait. Feel free to freshen up.”

Will nodded, fiddling with his cowl, longing to pull it up to hide his face from this man and become an anonymous shadow in the corner of some tavern down in town, rather than a dinner guest. 

“And Will?” Hannibal added, too planned to be some sort of afterthought. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He snapped his fingers, and the form of a familiar materialized around his shoulders. A black snake flicked its tongue out at Will, beady eyes staring him down. 

Will shivered, hand reaching down to grasp protectively at Winston’s fur. He felt trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the title is from the name of the wind by patrick rothfuss](https://ladyfrozen.wordpress.com/2011/06/29/a-silence-of-three-parts/) \- a bit of one of my favorite quotes from the book (which i suggest everyone read ! ! )


	2. Chapter 2

Will dropped his travel pack on the bed in the guestchamber, heaving a deep sigh. He unconsciously ran his fingers over the soft woolen comforter, glancing around at his surroundings. The room was richly decorated; an ornate stone fireplace sat directly across from the bed, neatly swept free of ash and stocked with fresh firewood. An intricately woven tapestry hung on one of the dark gray walls, many colors bringing to life a depiction of some sort of dragon, wings spread wide. A reading desk sat just in front of the single window in the room, stacked with a few tomes. 

Winston hopped up on the bed beside him, curling into a ball, tongue lolling lazily from the side of his mouth. Will stroked a hand over his familiar’s head, using the other to open his pack and pull a few items out. He’d only brought a few changes of clothes for the entire trip, and none of them were remotely fine enough to wear to a dinner with a lord. 

“I hope he doesn’t think I’m being disrespectful,” he murmured to himself, grabbing the nicest set of clothing he had. A high-collared tunic, simple and colored with muted browns and a few bits of interwoven golden thread to give it a bit of design, tucked in and paired with a brass-buckled belt. A simple pair of trousers, his knee-high deerskin hunting boots, and a short dagger slipped in beneath his shirt, cool metal pressed against his stomach. The outfit would have to do, he mused, unless he intended to show up to dinner in worn-out old clothing that sported holes in odd places. He’d have to speak with Jack about getting a new wardrobe when he arrived back home. He pinned the sigil of the King to his tunic - a simple golden wolf’s head.

The fief’s lord was an odd sort of character. He didn’t feel the man was entirely trustable, especially due to the fact that he had his own magic. Will knew the King was picky about magickers being given too much power; either this man had somehow bought the King’s favor, or was good at hiding his powers. Will suspected it was the latter, given how sneaky Hannibal seemed. How fitting that his familiar had manifested in the form of a snake.

“I suppose we’ll find out more about him at dinner, hm?” he murmured to Winston, whose ears perked up at Will’s voice. Will smiled fondly down at him for a few moments before pulling a book out of his pack and settling back against the bed’s pillows to read until an attendant came to fetch him for dinner.

\- - - 

“Ah, you’ve arrived,” Hannibal said as soon as Will was led through the door by one of the other man’s attendants. He rose from his chair, dipping his head at the servant, who promptly exited. “Please, have a seat. I’ve cooked a bit of a feast tonight. In your honor, of course.”

Will nodded, allowing himself to be guided to a high-backed chair that felt like more of a throne than anything else. Hannibal sat down just beside him; Will glanced around the room, feeling absurd to be the only two people dining at such a large table, something that might normally seat twenty or thirty noblemen. 

Though Hannibal didn’t seem offended by Will’s rather dull fashion, he’d changed into a much more elaborate outfit, different than the one Will had first seen him in. Will flushed a bit, feeling rather embarrassed, and turned his attention to the food laid out on the table - meats of several different varieties, paired with a few types of bread, some fresh vegetables, and a few other dishes he couldn’t for the life of him put a name on.

“This looks delicious,” Will murmured, fiddling with the silverware in front of him.

“Thank you,” Hannibal replied, flashing the younger man a toothy smile. “As I said, I cook all of my own dishes here. I hope you’ll find the meat especially savory.”

“That sounds like it must be time consuming.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s one of the only things to keep me occupied out here. This fief is rather.. far away from the central lands, and faces minor problems. Occasional banditry, some land disputes, bad harvests - harsh mountain winters are truly our only real issue.” Hannibal picked up a pitcher, filling a goblet in front of Will with red wine before pouring some in his own. “Cooking has become something of a passion of mine.”

Will nodded. Hannibal chatted a bit more, mostly about the keep and his duties overseeing the sliver of the kingdom he’d been given, as he served the dinner. He placed several different cuts of meat on Will’s plate, all of which looked appetizing after the day’s ride through the mountains it had taken him to arrive here. 

“So,” Will began as they both ate, keeping a careful eye trained on Hannibal, “has there been anything out of the ordinary happening around your fief lately? As I’m here to inspect for the King, I suppose it would be best to hear a bit from the man who rules this place.”

Hannibal’s face remained passive; if he had some flicker of knowledge about the murders, it would take a bit more pressing to find out. The older man quirked an eyebrow in response, offering a shrug. “Nothing has come to my attention. I keep a careful eye on what happens here.”

“Ah. No rumors, nothing of the sort?” Will asked, keen to see if he knew at least _something_.

Hannibal chuckled. “My, Will, I understand this is your job but one-sided table conversation is hardly fun. I’ll make an exchange with you; answer one of my questions, and I shall answer one of yours. Does that sound fair?”

Will pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure it would would be for the best, but he wanted nothing more than to get whatever information Hannibal might have and leave the keep for the night. He dipped his head, murmuring, “I.. suppose that sounds fine. Ask away, Lord Lecter.”

“So, what business might the King have employing a necromancer? If I am not mistaken, magickers with your talents are typically.. persecuted, are they not?” Hannibal asked, the sides of his mouth curved up in an amiable smile; an honest question, Will knew.

Will stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork, considering his response as he chewed. He glanced up to see Hannibal awaiting his answer patiently, nearly finished with his own portion of the meal. He let out a sigh and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

“Most necromancers have fled into hiding, or have been otherwise hunted down, yes,” Will answered, words slow, careful. “I’m one of the _luckier ones_ , I suppose.” He laughs, the sound tinged with bitterness, and continues.

“I came into my powers late. You know how it is; most manifest them in their younger years. Early teens. I, however, found that I had magic when I was just entering adulthood. I was already working for the King at that point.  
“I went to my superior and explained it to him. We tested my powers, ruling out more common things like arcane and scrying magics. Finally, he took me to a freshly dug grave and had me see if anything would work on it.”

He grimaced a bit at the memory; the corpse, with the red smile of a slit throat easily belying the man’s cause of death. The feel of the cold skin under his fingertips, rigor mortis long set in. Whispering the words that suddenly came to him, as if they had been ingrained in him since birth, the spell’s lyrics of necromancy glowing in his mind’s eye.

“I found that my powers were stunted.” Will glanced up, seeing Hannibal’s brow quirk at this.

“How so?” she man asked, interest piqued. 

Will let out a chuckle. “I’m afraid that’s another question, Lord Lecter. You haven’t let me have mine yet.”

“But you haven’t finished your story.”

“Mm. There’s nothing much more to tell. I can’t raise the dead, as most necromancers can. I can only.. re-live their deaths, I suppose. I can touch a corpse and tell how they died. See their killers, sometimes. I can talk to spirits of the dead, as well; occasionally, I can summon lesser spirits. Like Winston.” His eyes flickered down to his shadow on the floor - beside the dark outline of himself sat the dog in question, dutifully waiting and incorporeal. “The King decided to use my gift to aid his kingdom.”

“Interesting,” Hannibal commented, fingers steepled before him. “A necromancer that can’t perform true necromancy.”

“A blessing in disguise,” Will replied, words ringing bittersweet. “Though, with my.. reputation, people tend to shy away from me. They still think I’ll somehow manage to defile the graves of their loved ones and bring what was dead back to life, I suppose. I prefer the company of spirits and animals, anyhow, at this point.”

The other man gave him a nod of understanding, eyeing Will for a lingering moment, gaze moving up and down his body, before leaning forward and serving himself some more food. “Would you like anything else?” he asked, and Will shook his head.

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“What would you like to know, then?”

Will sat back in his chair, studying Hannibal. He wanted to know more about the murderer, see if the lord was at all aware; he felt that the other man knew something he wasn’t telling, but Will supposed that pressing too much would make him suspicious about his true reason for coming to the area. He settled for a different question, instead.

“What sort of magic do you possess?” he asked, curious. Hannibal huffed a bit in response, settling his fork on his plate.

“Just simple magic. A bit of minor conjuring power. You know the King would never let a powerful magicker claim a high place like mine; we’re stigmatized enough in normal society, as it is. It wouldn’t give a good image of his kingdom to the other lands.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “If your magic is only simple, how are you able to summon a familiar? As far as I know it takes a bit of serious magic to manifest one.”

Hannibal’s face twitched, just a bit, at the remark. He glanced down to one of his hands, lightly touching a black ring that rested upon the ring finger of his right hand, shaped like a small snake coiled around the digit. _Ah,_ Will thought, _that’s where it hides._

“As I said, my ability lies in conjuring. I merely conjured a friendly spirit and bound it to myself.”

“Familiars are supposed to choose you,” Will murmured darkly. “You don’t bind them.”

Hannibal avoided the question, instead pushing his plate aside and taking a sip of wine from his goblet. “Do you have plans to stay in town, Will? If not, I can offer you a place to stay as long as you are here inspecting the land. Any man of the King is welcome to stay in my keep and have access to my kitchens and stables, of course.”

Will resisted the urge to press Hannibal further on the subject of his magic, but figured it would be a lost cause. “Ah. I was going to stay in a tavern. I would feel a bit more comfortable there.”

“Of course, of course. At least allow me to provide you a fresh horse and some supplies, though. My servants can wash the clothes you travelled here in, as well.”

The older man pushed himself away from the table, walking behind Will’s chair and standing beside him as he got up. He extended his hand for Will to shake, and as Will’s palm touched the other man’s fingers, he felt the chilled metal of the snake-shaped ring on his finger and his mouth contorted itself into a momentary frown.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Lecter. I will make sure the crown does not forget this.”

Hannibal offered him a courteous smile, bowing at the waist. “I assume you will be staying at the Red Dragon Inn? It’s the best establishment in town.”

Will shrugged. “I hadn’t put much thought into it; I had just planned to walk through town and find somewhere with a comfortable bed and something warm to eat in the morning.”

“I suggest the Red Dragon, then. I’ll have your clothes and supplies sent down there in the morning; I know the innkeeper well.”

“Oh. Good,” Will replied, and allowed Hannibal to guide him with a hand on the small of his back toward one of the keep’s doors. An attendant followed them, Will’s pack in his hands, and gave it to the younger man.

“The stables are down the hall. I hope our paths cross soon, Will,” Hannibal murmured, breath hot beside Will’s ear. Will shuddered as the older man gave him a pat on the shoulder, eyes just catching a glimpse of his face as he departed.


	3. Chapter 3

Will’s mind raced as he made his way down the road that led away from the keep and into the small town surrounding it. The horse he’d been given by the stablemaster was strong; a massive, black beast with a clipped mane and feathered hair around its hooves. Something a bit more conspicuous than he would’ve liked, a horse that obviously befit a nobleman, but he suppose it couldn’t have been helped. He would allow his own horse a decent rest while he stayed in the area, and return Hannibal’s stock at a later time.

The dinner hadn’t gone at all as he’d expected it to. Dinners with lords typically had more of a pompous air, the men attempting to flaunt their power and talk up their lands to the King’s men, hoping word of their strength and riches would make its way to court in the capital and give them a bump in status. Hannibal had seemed different. He cooked his own food, not leaving it to servants to fret over. He had seemed content with the area he ruled, not seeking anything more from the King. If anything, he’d been the most interested in Will’s magic, which worried him; Hannibal’s own magic had taken on more of a malevolent air in Will’s mind, after the man had told him that he’d essentially forced a familiar into servitude. 

He shook his head, clearing it of the thought. Will doubted he would have to come across the lord again, and if by chance they did cross paths, he’d just have to grin and bear it. 

Pulling his hood up until it shadowed his face from the flickering light that had begun to shine upon the path as his horse walked him into town, Will glanced at his surroundings. The town seemed lively for a place that was so removed from the mainlands, nestled in the mountains. People spilled into the nighttime streets, talking, trading, dancing, and making the best of their lives. The houses and taverns that lined the main way gave off a friendly golden glow, and Will could see lit hearths and torches warming their insides.

He reined his horse in by one of the establishments, glancing up at the wooden sign that hung over the entryway - it read _Red Dragon Inn_. Dismounting, he flipped the stableboy a few coins and murmured a quick _take care of him_ , patting his horse on the flank and letting the youth lead the beast away to be taken care of at the inn’s barn.

The inn was even more raucous on the inside than it was on the out. The bottom floor was crowded with people who sat around tables together, and the smell of ale mixed with the acrid tang of the fire’s smoke hung heavy in the air. Serving girls and boys roamed the room, bringing out what Will could only see as a plethora of alcohol.

“Hey!” he heard a voice shout, followed by the loud crack of a hand slapping firmly on a table. “Stop _this instant._ I don’t tolerate brawling here.”

He stood on his tiptoes, looking over the crowd until he caught sight of a middle-aged woman, blonde hair curling down to her shoulders and around her neck, staring two men down who seemed to have begun a fistfight with each other, faces flushed red with drunkenness. The men took the warning to heart, each backing away from the other; the revelry in the room continued as the scene ended.

Will, satisfied with having found the woman who must have been the innkeeper, cut his way through the people in the tavern to find her. She looked at him with curious eyes, head tilted to the side as he approached her.

“Hello,” he said in greeting, bowing his head. “I’ve come seeking a room for the night.”

“Ah. You must be Will Graham,” she murmured, lips curving into a smooth smile. “Bedelia du Maurier. A pleasure to house a servant of the King.”

“You knew I was coming?”

“Of course. Hannibal sent a rider in advance and told me to prepare my finest room for you.”

 _They seem to be on a first name basis_ , Will mused. It struck him as odd that a lord would choose to associate himself with the commonwealth; most tended to stay inside of their own circle of nobles. 

“That’s hardly necessary. I’m fine with an ordinary room.”

She held out a key, pressing it into his palm when he extended his hand to take it, and offered a suave, knowing smile. “Last room on the right when you go up to the second floor of the building.”

Will sensed that the conversation was over before it had really even begun. He nodded numbly, fingers curling around the cold iron of the key, and shouldered his pack to make his way up to the room in question.

The door barely creaked as he unlocked and opened it. The room inside was inviting, though hardly anything lavish; it was simple, containing all the necessities of an inn’s room, and nothing more. He supposed the fineness lay in the little details - the bowl of exotic fruit on the table, delicacies that were hard to find out in the mountains, due to the extensive terrain they had to be taken over via caravan just to reach the area. A soft bed made up with several different types of furs and down pillows. A washbasin stood in the corner, already stocked with a pitcher full of water and several cloths. The room even had a clawed tub that looked to be scrubbed clean, gleaming white and drawn with steaming water, ready for him to bathe in.

He heaved a sigh, letting his pack drop to the floor and stripping off his clothes, kicking them into a corner. Will slipped into the tub and let out a moan of pleasure at the feeling of the warm water soothing his skin after an incredibly long, stressful, and somewhat confusing day.

“Hey,” he murmured, looking lazily over the rim of the tub at Winston, who had once more materialized and perched himself on the bed. The familiar stared at something intently, hackles raised. Will glanced over to the spot Winston was so fixated on and squinted; he could see the faint, flickering outline of a man’s form standing in the corner, mostly see-through. The man suddenly fell to his knees, the words of some helpless plead on his lips as his hands grasped at something that couldn’t be seen. It startled Will and he sat up in the tub, water splashing over the edge when he leaned forward to get a better view.

Just as the spirit had appeared, it was gone. Will sunk back into the water until his nose was just above it, unsettled by the apparition. Spirits were bound by their lives, only able to walk the paths they once had, unless a magicker contracted them and made them into familiars. The one he’d just seen must have stayed in this room. Must’ve died in this room.

He found it odd that he hadn’t been able to see the full extent of the spirit’s death. Occasionally the ghosts of those once alive appeared before him in odd places; humans, mostly, and a few beasts. He knew his magic allowed him to share in small snippets of their lives, to see them where they once had been but no longer were able to walk. But their forms looked clearer, sometimes almost human-like. It put him on edge that this man had been so faint, that he’d only been able to see a few seconds of the events leading up to his death.

Will submerged his entire body under the water, thoughts weighing heavily in his mind. He blew the air from his lungs and just watched as a steady stream of bubbles floated up, up, up, until they finally broke on the surface.

\- - - 

He awoke early in the morning to the sound of three firm knocks on his door. Bleary-eyed, Will stumbled out of bed and opened it, coming face-to-face with Hannibal.

“Will,” Hannibal said, a bit _too_ cheery for a man who was up just past the break of dawn. “May I come in?”

“Mm,” Will replied, holding the door for him and closing it once the other man had entered. Will flopped back down on the bed, groggily grabbing his shirt and pulling it on, hair still unkempt from sleep.

Hannibal set a heavy load down on the floor, Will just noticing it for the first time. The older man had been carrying several leather packs of all sizes. He bent down, rummaging through them until he found whatever he’d been looking for; he held out a dish that was wrapped by several layers of white cloth, offering it to Will and commenting, “Eat up.”

Will unwrapped it to find perfectly-cooked bacon. Looking at the food made him feel a pang of hunger in his stomach and he gladly obliged the request.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Lord Lecter?” he asked, cordially taking a bite of the meat.

“I have discussed the matter with my advisors and believe it would be best to accompany you as you survey my fiefdom. I understand the crown considers what I rule over to be small, but it is only so in the number of people who reside in it. The terrain itself is quite large, and villages are spread throughout the mountains. I would feel safer knowing you had a guide; and none know the area better than I.”

Will held back a grimace. He felt a bit of scheming behind this proposal, but couldn’t refuse without making himself look suspicious. After all, he knew veritably _nothing_ about the land he was about to embark on a tour of. All he had was a crudely-drawn map with the locations of several murders marked on it. 

“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your duties, milord,” Will murmured in reply. “If I must have a guide, why not send a servant? Your stablemaster seemed to know the area quite well when he gave me directions last night.”

“Nonsense. I would not leave a man of the king in the company of some lowly servant. Besides, it would give me a chance to get to know you better. I am sure we would both benefit if we discussed our magical proclivities in more.. detail.”

 _Ah_ , Will mused. That was it. Hannibal must not have been satisfied by the brief description of his powers he’d given at dinner; wanted to know _more_ about the strange, half-formed necromancer that had stumbled into his lands.

“If you insist, then,” Will replied, giving in. “However, I only brought enough supplies for one.”

“I took the liberty of bringing my own supplies, and then some. I brought several weapons along, as well; I figured you must be trained in at least one or two of them. The wildlife can occasionally be dangerous in the more remote areas of the mountains.”

He flipped open the largest pack, removing a small assortment of weapons; a dagger, several small, sheathed shortswords, and a bow and quiver.

Will picked up the bow, plucking at the gut it was strung with. He grabbed the quiver as well, looking over the fletching of the arrows before nodding soundly. “I’ll take this. What weapon will you use?”

“No need,” Hannibal replied. “A bit of magic goes a long way.”

“Hm. I suppose I wouldn’t know the feeling, considering my..” Will trailed off, waving his hand dismissively. 

Hannibal opened a second pack, handing Will a set of folded clothes. “A new travel outfit, since the one you wore to get here was hardly suitable for the climate this time of year. And my men have already loaded both of our horses with the rest of the necessities for our trip.”

Will unfolded the clothes and gave them a once-over. Brown breeches, a dark forest green cotton jerkin and undershirt. A leather belt to strap across his chest and hold his quiver, with two additional sheathes obviously made to fit daggers in. Sturdy gloves that cut off at the knuckle and would protect his palms from riding calluses. A gray cloak that was fixed with a similarly-colored cowl; something Will would feel safe in. All in all, the clothing was well thought-out, and he had to commend Hannibal’s choices. He quickly changed as Hannibal rummaged through the packs and buckled them up, shouldering his own and leaving two that Will assumed were his. He pulled on his own, comfortable hunting boots, slung the bow across his chest and under one arm, and fixed the quiver to its strap.

Hannibal held the room’s door open for him and Will exited, making his way downstairs to an inn that seemed considerably more peaceful in the morning than it had been the previous night. As the older man had said, Will’s own borrowed black steed was already loaded with a bedroll and several other bags, saddled and ready to go. Hannibal’s choice horse appeared to be a sturdy tan mare who carried a similar load.

The older man pushed himself into the saddle and Will followed suit; Hannibal flashed him an unsettling smile.

“Now,” Hannibal said, voice silky smooth. “Shall we begin our journey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was able to go to the hannibal panel at sdcc today which got me totally stoked to write more so anyway here is another chapter! the story should be speeding up soon, thankfully. and thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the heat, storm clouds brewed on the horizon. A dark, angry mass, foretelling torrential summer showers that would no doubt be unleashed upon them by twilight at the latest. Hannibal seemed to have noticed the grim weather signals as well; he clicked his tongue and dug his heels into the flanks of his mount. Will pressed his own legs to his horse, following suit, until they both held a steady canter. 

They’d been moving at a brisk enough pace for the greater part of the day, and breaks were few and far between.

“The area I am tasked with watching over is small in populace, but large in area. The nearest town is high in altitude, built up around one of the taller peaks here. It will take a day and a half to reach, at the very least,” Hannibal had said. Will had groaned inwardly upon hearing the words. Travelling on horseback was one of his least favorite activities, nevermind having to spend hours in the saddle. 

Hannibal, at least, offered something of more comfort as an afterthought. “From this little town, the rest are a bit closer. Less than a day to travel to each. In between is mostly forest and farmland.”

“Do your people have a high produce output?” Will asked, curiosity piqued at the mention of farmland.

“Unfortunately, no. Due to our remote location, the people mostly farm to sustain themselves. Most produce would rot by the time it reached the heartland,” Hannibal replied. “Our real wealth lies in furs. The animals that live here have rich pelts in order to protect themselves against the cold climate.”

“Doesn’t seem too cold to me,” Will muttered darkly, pulling down his cowl for a moment to rake a hand through his hair. Sweat matted it, and when he pulled back his fingers were covered by a sheen of sweat. Summer. His least favorite of the seasons.

He caught Hannibal shooting him a curious look and pulled the cowl back up, shielding his face in the shadow of the fabric, mostly hidden from the other man’s prying eyes. 

Several minutes passed between them. Will focused his attention elsewhere - anywhere but the other riding beside him. He listened to the heaving of his horse’s breath, the buzzing of insects around them. Watched the summer blackberries, blurred as they streaked by the plants. Noted the waning of the day, the way the clouds had begun to hide the afternoon pinks and oranges behind their gray facade.

“Do you dislike me, Will?” Hannibal asked, slowing his horse to a fast walk. Will was forced to rein his own horse in and keep pace; Hannibal was, after all, his guide. He pursed his lips. 

“Does a dog dislike a wolf, Lord Lecter?”

A chuckle. “Not necessarily. Both are, after all, predators. Kin. The two can learn to coexist, form bonds of their own.”

“And yet, wolves are innately savage. Wild. They may regard a dog as kin at first, but if they detect weakness, they will not hesitate to attack and kill. Whereas dogs have been bred into domesticity, to a certain extent,” Will replied. “They can coexist, but there will always be tension. Each knows to be wary of the other.”

“Are you the dog or the wolf in this analogy, Will?”

He shrugged. “You tell me.”

\- - - 

They stopped at a clearing in the woods to set up camp for the night, clouds stretching out overhead as the daylight began to bleed from the sky. The horses seemed thankful for the rest, and Will pulled all of the tack off his own mount, setting the saddle and bags upon a fallen log and giving the beast a good brush-down, splashing water on its sweaty back.

Hannibal had already set up his sleeping roll, having gathered a bit of soft grass to pile beneath it in an effort to make some sort of comfort. Will followed suit, unrolling his own not too far from the other man’s, and silently wishing that he were sleeping on his own soft down mattress instead of braving the wilderness with an odd lord and sleeping upon the bedding equivalent of a plank of wood.

“I am going to set up a few snares to catch something for tomorrow’s breakfast,” Hannibal said, coiling rope around his hands. 

“I’ll go.. look for firewood, I suppose,” Will offered, and the other man nodded.

“A good plan.”

They parted ways, each entering the forest at a different point. The trees were incredibly dense, and Will found himself surprised that there was any light at all streaming between their branches and leaves and illuminating small spots on the ground below. He put his fingers to the corners of his mouth and whistled, Winston immediately appearing beside him.

“Good boy,” he murmured, setting a hand on the dog’s head as he tread apprehensively deeper into the forest. Luckily, sticks littered the ground, and he bundled a good amount for tinder under one arm, grabbing a large branch that he would be able to break into decent-sized firewood in the other. 

Reluctant to go any further into the darkening forest, Will turned heel to head back. His foot struck against something solid and he stumbled, leg catching on whatever it was he’d hit, and fell forward into his hands and knees. His fingers dug into dirt. He turned himself around, brows knit.

A rotting deer corpse had tripped him, shrouded in the shadow of the trees. Most of the bones were visible, having been stripped clean by whatever predators lived in the forest. The skull was detached from the rest of it, stained red by the animal’s lifeblood, bits of hide still clinging to it. The size of the thing was impressive, and the antlers in particular branched out from the top, like huge, pointed branches. 

_The antlers might make good knife handles,_ he thought to himself. A spare deerskull was not something to be tossed away lightly.

He hefted the thing with one arm, bundling all of his wood under the other, and walked back to the campsite. Winston side-eyed the skull apprehensively. Will knew his familiar tended to tense up when in the presence of corpses or other beings related to death and spirits, and murmured a quiet spell, dismissing the dog for the time being.

“You’re back,” Hannibal said when he arrived, already kneeling over a blanket with foodstuffs laid upon it. Will nodded, clearing a decent pit with his foot and setting up the firewood inside it. He went to retrieve flint from his bag but Hannibal just shook his head and said, “Watch.”

The older man removed his gloves, palm outstretched over the wood. He curled his fingers until they were touching his thumb, gazed down at them in concentration. “ _Ignis_ ,” he murmured, and a small flame struck at his fingertips.

Will immediately felt his body go cold. A shiver rolled down his spine, and he ran a hand over the goosebumps that raised themselves on the flesh of his arm. _Odd_ , he thought to himself. _Must’ve been a cold breeze._

Hannibal transferred the fire that flickered in his hand to the wood, and almost immediately, a fine blaze was going. “ _Frigus_ ,” the older man whispered, and the light on his fingers went out. He rubbed his hands together.

“I’ve never seen a conjurer work before,” Will admitted, unable to help the admiration that sparked in his eyes. He enjoyed researching different types of magickers, studying them in books and scrolls that were kept in the capital’s libraries. But to see them actually work, in the flesh as opposed to on paper, was always an experience.

“Many are unstable with their magics. I have practiced for quite a while to be able to conjure elements and the like without hurting myself.” 

“Your level of control is admirable, Lord Lecter.”

“Please, Will. If we’re to journey together, let us not be burdened by formalities. Hannibal will do just fine.”

“As you wish, Hannibal,” Will replied, the name rolling off his tongue, the _l_ at the end curling like poison.

Hannibal nodded his approval. His eyes strayed to the deer skull that Will still clutched in one hand, brows raising.

“What’s this?”

“I thought I would craft a few things from it. Pity to let something like this go to waste.”

Hannibal approached him and bent, placing his hands on the skull and taking it from Will’s hands. He examined it for a few moments, eyes roving over it, and a smile curved at his lips.

“This might be an.. opportune moment for us to practice a bit of magic. If you are up to it,” Hannibal said.

Will blinked, unsure. “How so?”

“Do you trust me in this matter, Will?”

He considered it. “I’m not sure what matter we’re discussing.”

“Come. I’ll show you.”

Hannibal led him to a separate area in the clearing, dropping to his knees and grabbing a stray stick. He dug the stick into the ground, drawing a circle wide enough for two to sit inside of, and marking it with several runes Will wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in any magical text he had studied. 

The whole process took several minutes, and Hannibal finished by sitting himself on one half of the circle, beckoning Will to do the same, and placing the skull between them once Will had sat down.

“Give me your hands,” Hannibal said, voice soft. Will tentatively did so, and Hannibal took the younger’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together so they were both touching the skull.

“Try to call the stag’s spirit,” the older man urged. 

“I - I don’t know if I can. It might be difficult.”

“Try.” Hannibal pressed his fingers even tighter, and Will felt a pulse of magic run through him, lips parting in a quiet gasp. His senses seemed to heighten and he could see feel the spirit that had once, in life, been the stag - attached to the skull by a small thread, glowing in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, recited the words that came to him.

The ghost he saw when he opened his eyes was faint, but present. A magnificent stag; though it was see-through, flickering between the spirit world and the corporeal world, he could see the beautiful tawny color of its hide, the flecks of white near its nose and underbelly. 

Hannibal squeezed their hands together, lips drawn into a smile. “Wonderful,” he murmured, and withdrew one hand to his belt, pulling out a dagger. Will, still dazed by the magic it had taken to summon the spirit, faintly noticed the older man slicing the skin on his wrist with the blade and dripping a small stream of blood upon the skull, reciting words in a language that sounded ancient. Malevolent.

The stag spirit began to flicker, form warping, a shroud of darkness engulfing it as if a flock of ravens were swarming the ghost. Will shook his head, thinking it a trick of his numbed mind, but the beast became blacker, chest heaving as it cried out, glossing over until the body seemed to become physical once more.

Hannibal rejoined their hands and closed his own eyes, taking a deep breath, clutching their fingers to eachother. Will felt himself suddenly overpowered by a wave of magic like he’d never felt before; it seemed pure pleasure, something he wanted to give into, a pulse of pure power. All radiating from Hannibal.

He momentarily forgot about their dual summoning, and found himself leaning into Hannibal, nudging the skull out of the way and holding the older man’s hands tight. The magic continued to flow into him; it was like an addiction, and he pressed his body against Hannibal’s, chest heaving, staring down into the other man’s face in awe. 

Hannibal himself seemed surprised by the magical connection they’d established, sweat beading his forehead as the magic between them amplified. The deer, too, seemed to be directly connected to their twinning powers, body slowly becoming more and more corporeal, far darker and taking on a new form, one of their own twisted creation.

Then, Will, laying upon Hannibal and clutching at the older man’s arms, lashed a foot out. It scraped the circle, breaking the continuous line Hannibal had drawn, and the flow of magic stopped. The deer’s spirit returned to normal and flickered out of existence.

Will’s chest heaved, face pressed to Hannibal’s neck, the older man’s breath hot on the back of his own. They lay tangled together for several moments before Will finally rolled off, mind still rolling from the entire experience, breath coming to him in gasps.

Hannibal turned his gaze, met his eyes.

“What,” Will began, “was that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! i just started college so everything has been a bit hectic!


	5. Chapter 5

The night passed miserably. Shortly after the botched ritual, the skies opened up and unleashed their fury. Rain poured down upon them for hours, showing no sign of letting up even as they were well into the early morning. The water had put out their little campfire, flames going up into smoke with an angry _hiss_ punctuated by the furious patter of raindrops and the sound of wind whistling through the forest around them. The tarp tied overhead did little to stop the water from soaking into everything Will had with him; in a last-ditch attempt to preserve at least a few things, he gathered his packs and a good portion of their wrapped food, curling his body around the items to keep them dry. 

He suffered as the hours passed with no sleep, water soaking him to the bone, stealing an occasional glance at Hannibal’s figure. The other man slept on his side, facing away from Will. Inside, Will found his mind drifting back to the magic they had performed earlier. He felt utterly drained, as if he had no magic left in his own body; he had experienced this feeling only a few times before, after particularly grueling attempts to summon or otherwise contact the souls of the dead. But this sensation was something of a different sort. Like his magic had been stolen from him, not merely expended.

\- - - 

They rode for hours in silence, nothing to hear but the sounds of nature around them and the _clop_ of the horses’ hooves splashing through puddles on the wethered path. Will had stripped down to his undershirt and breeches, hanging the rest of his gear over the packs tied to the back of his saddle to dry. He was at least grateful that the rain had let up for a bit, but clouds still obscured the sun and threatened to unleash their fury at any moment.

Hannibal had not changed, but seemed to be, miraculously, dry. He said nothing to Will for the rest of their ride, deep in thought, brows knit but face not belying any emotions. Will was glad for the reprieve from the other man’s prying questions, but a part of him _wanted_ to talk. Especially, he thought, about the previous night.

They reached the town just after midday. Hannibal pressed a coin into the palm of a porter who waited outside one of the inns, and the boy quickly moved to unstrap their packs and stable their horses. 

“Come,” Hannibal said, beckoning Will to follow him. “I frequently visit this area; the inn has a private room set aside for me. We can rest here for the day and begin the inspection tomorrow, if you wish.”

While Will wanted nothing more than to get on with his duties and find out more about the murderer plaguing the area, he felt too weary to do so at present, nearly two days of riding and little to no sleep taxing his body and mind. “That sounds fine,” he murmured, and he followed Hannibal inside. The older man exchanged a few cursory words with the innkeeper and received a key before leading Will up the stairs to a door nestled in the far corner of the floor; upon its unlocking, Will was greeted with the sight of a particularly spacious room, large bed laden with cushions and furs, and furniture that looked nearly as comfortable. A tub sat beside a window, shelves next to it stocked with fresh-smelling herbs and ointments. Their packs had already been brought up by the porter and rested upon a rich mahogany table.

“This is yours?” Will asked, and Hannibal nodded his reply.

“I travel back and forth between my keep and this town often enough that I have this room permanently rented. I am the only one allowed to use it. Please, make yourself at home.”

Hannibal turned a knob on the tub and stripped down to his smallclothes. Will simply stared, watching the muscles beneath Hannibal’s skin flex, his eyes drifting downward and taking in the gray peppering his chest and around his dark nipples, his taut stomach and a trail of fine hairs matching those on his upper body leading down beneath the top of his pants.

He caught himself, shaking his head and heaving a sigh. “Hannibal,” Will murmured, catching the older man’s eye as he turned around to look.

“Yes, Will?”

“We need to talk. About _whatever_ that was last night.”

Hannibal studied him for a moment, a hint of a smile curving the edges of his thin lips. “A simple ritual. Nothing more,” he replied, voice careful, as if talking to a child.

Will tensed. “Simple rituals don’t require blood sacrifices to be made.”

“I was testing the limits of your magic. It seems you’re far more powerful than even you realize.”

“Me?” Will said, brows knit. “Little of that was my power. What did you do to me? Why did the spirit react so malevolently to whatever you and I were channeling?” He let out a shaky breath, raking a distraught hand through the mess of curls atop his head. “None of that should have happened. I’ve summoned spirits before; never have they reacted as that stag did.”

Hannibal pursed his lips, thoughtful as he dipped a hand into the bathwater to test it. “I think,” he said carefully, “the ritual may have gone farther than I intended.”

“Explain,” Will replied bluntly. He watched closely as Hannibal busied himself putting several variations of herbs into the water- lavender, meadowsweet, sage, rosemary, and several others he couldn’t place. Hannibal finished, turned to Will, and looked him in the eyes, gaze passive.

“Our magics were bonded.”

Will looked at Hannibal, confused. “Bonded? In what way?”

“Do you feel drained, at the moment? As if you have no power left to use?”

“I- yes. What does that have to do with it?”

“I feel as if I am brimming with magic,” Hannibal said, flexing his fingers. “ _Lux_ ,” he whispered, and a bright light struck at the tips of his first two fingers. He put his fingers to the air above the bath, drawing out a shape that looked like a sideways V with a line down the middle. The form hovered, glistening with white light, until Hannibal murmured _incendo_ ; his words gave life to the rune, which glowed brighter for a moment before bursting in a brilliant shower of sparks. Steam began to flow from the bathwater, immediately heated by the spell. Will shivered, a wave of cold coming over his body.

“Even a spell such as that does not seem to have depleted my power,” Hannibal continued, and Will grimaced. “I believe that, during the ritual we performed, our magics may have intertwined as I was pushing mine into you, attempting to test how much you could do with more power than you already possessed. The stag spirit's changing appearance was simply a manifestation of our bonding. When the ritual ended, I pulled my power back; however, it seems I’ve pulled more than just my power.”

Rubbing the goosebumps that had risen on his arms at the sudden chill, Will replied, “If our magics are bonded, I should be able to access your reserves of power.”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“Try it.”

Hannibal nodded, and Will steeled himself, closing his eyes. He was unprepared, however, for the flow of magic that was suddenly pushed into him, more, even, than had been before.

His senses heightened; he felt that he could hear hundreds of voices talking at once, whispering to him and to each other. When he opened his eyes, Will could see the forms of many spirits, their eyes fixed on him. Dead. Unblinking. As he looked around the room the murmurs of the dead grew louder, overwhelming him, and Will felt as if he were drowning in them. He gripped his head, falling to his knees as the sensation became too loud, too unbearable. And he cried out, “Make it stop!” to Hannibal. 

The flow of magic was cut off immediately and Will’s body went slack. Hannibal rushed to his side, a hand wrapping around his waist and helping him to his feet. Will felt utterly spent, body wracked with shivers, head still ringing from the sensation.

“I now understand why so many necromancers go mad,” he murmured wryly. 

Hannibal helped him to the edge of the tub, sitting him on it, an arm still wrapped around Will’s waist. “Being in constant connection with the dead can be an unnerving experience- or so I have heard,” he said. “Here. Relax in the tub. I had drawn the bath for you, as it was. I need to change and do a bit of business in town.”

Will nodded, fingers unlacing the ties on his shirt and pulling it over his head. Hannibal moved to his packs and took out a set of formal clothes, quickly changing into them and making himself presentable as a nobleman. “Will you be all right without me?” Hannibal asked, and Will nodded his reply.

“Very well. I shall be back before sundown.”

With that, Hannibal left Will to his own devices. Will took off his other garments, tossing them into a disheveled heap near the hearth and slipping into the perfectly tempered water. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes, sinking far enough down that his curls bobbed at the surface. As he began to relax from the experience, a quiet, icy voice sliced through the silence.

 _Help me,_ it whispered. 

Will started, splashing water as he whipped his head in the direction of the speaker. His eyes locked with the spirit of a young girl, neck stained with blood as if she had been garroted. Her next words died on her lips as her form flickered out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is brought to you by the song [dragon boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArsV7AFZBHY) from spirited away, which i listened to on repeat while writing this and think fits the mood tbh

**Author's Note:**

> [the title is from the name of the wind by patrick rothfuss](http://doclecture.net/1-12954.html) \- a bit of one of my favorite quotes from the book.


End file.
